I saw a wound today,
For the first time it bothered me.
I've seen death,
I know the cuts,
To be made to free muscle from skin,
How could a little blood and flesh bother me today?
Have my eyes lost their hardness?
I know the feel of bone,
And all the names of its marks and holes.
Why did it bother me so?
I've seen the body as many never should.
Today maybe my soul finally understood,
And it made another's pain its own.